


Avatarstuck: A Legend of War and Spirits

by tunefulTriangulist, Wolverinejoe



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Avatarstuck, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-03-31 04:59:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3965290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tunefulTriangulist/pseuds/tunefulTriangulist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolverinejoe/pseuds/Wolverinejoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>NB:</b> It should be noted that it is not required for one to have watched Avatar: The Last Airbender, or its sister show, Legend of Korra, to fully understand this work.</p>
<p>Destiny is a strange thing. While the world waits for the newest Avatar, an Air Nomad, the Northern Water Tribe war machine prepares to instigate chaos the likes of which living memory has never seen. Sixteen children from all four of the nations find themselves bound together by the strings of fate, and it is their actions that will decide the course of history.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <img/><br/></p>
</div><br/>One can only hope that fate picked the right people for the job.
            </blockquote>





	1. A Tale of Two Outcasts

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to A:LOWAS, the brainchild of myself and the lovely tunefulTriangulist. New chapters will be added every other Monday, as our schedules allow.
> 
>  
> 
> _Next scheduled update: July 20th. If we're unusually fast, we may post chapters early and reset the update schedule._
> 
> _Wolverinejoe here. Due to some unfortunate issues with scheduling, Chapter 5 has been delayed. With luck, we should be back to normal in roughly a week or so. I'll be sure to keep you updated._
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy.

Your name is Karkat Bantasu, and you have blue eyes, blue like ice in winter. You live in the Earth Kingdom.

‘Once upon a time, somewhere far, far away,’ your mother would say mistily on cold firelit nights, ‘there was a little spirit named Karkat. He was so naughty that he was banished. He came to Earth, and it was cold, so cold, with autumn about to drop its last leaves and early winter setting its teeth into the ground. Someone found poor little Karkat when he landed, and wrapped him up, and they were about to take him home when he bit them so hard with his devilish little teeth that they had to drop him.

‘They decided to leave him on the ground, and at first little Karkat was fine, but time passed and the air grew dark and then Karkat got scared.

‘So Karkat started to cry. He wailed and shrieked for all his little lungs were worth. Spirits, were you _loud!_ You must have interrupted the Celestial Emperor eating dinner with that noise!’

Mother would smile that smile, and Kanaya would bring her hand up to her mouth and pretend to cough, and your cheeks would grow quite red. You would scowl at the fire on the tiles and try not to break anything, and then Kanaya and Mother would laugh, for no apparent reason. They said it was because you were cute. You never bought that.

‘I was out in the woods, walking home from Linxuan Market, when I heard this noise. I thought: it must be a little spirit! He’s been banished from his land and now there’s nobody to take care of him. So I followed the noise, and followed the trees, and I found little Karkat lying there, face all red, wearing nothing but a potato sack, bawling his eyes out. And I fell in love with him, so I picked him up. Who would have guessed that the first thing he would do would be to sink his teeth into my finger and hang on as hard as he could?’

Mother would laugh again, and Kanaya would join her, and you would scowl even more.

‘So I took him home and washed him and put him in new clothes and introduced him to his big sister Kanaya.’ Mother would sit back and lace her fingers and break a fond smile. ‘And that is how you came into the family.’

Kanaya would get up angelically and pour some tea.

You watched when Kanaya danced and when Mother sang, as lovely as the sunrise and the orchids in the yard. _They_ were your family. They had hearts of gold and they loved you by choice, not by obligation, and for that you should have been all the more grateful.

But you had blue eyes, you were an outcast, and that was why you were so surprised when one stormy night a princess turned up who had them too.

 

*       *       *

Your name is Feferi Pikushi, and you were going to be married. You were not consulted in this matter.

Your mother left the tribe when you were three. She was a tall woman with an impressive head of hair, you recall; the last thing you remember of her is the glint of a trident, bright in the ice’s glare, and then she swept away in a blur and vanished like a shadow and you no longer had a mother.

Your stepfather’s name was Kizuato Darusuka, and you didn’t like him much. You had a feeling that the sentiment was mutual.

Eridan would sit on the edge of Baitang Lake most mornings, and sometimes you brought him a cup of tea. He would mumble thanks, and then you would sigh so quietly that he couldn’t hear.

This was your fiancé.

You were in line for the chieftainship of the Northern Water Tribe, and often you dreamed unhappy dreams about wearing that title. You would think of marriage, of the life you would have to lead, of the chokehold of the cloth around your neck, and then all you would desire was to live a quiet existence in one of the villages. Eridan did very little to help.

Your fiancé was _perfect_. He was handsome and a talented bender. He was one of your stepfather’s favourite warriors. He was one of your foremost childhood friends. You knew this. The problem was that he knew it as well. His various credits did nothing to mitigate his narcissistic and indomitably arrogant nature. They didn’t stop him from whining at you. Eridan wished you no ill. Worse: he was so engrossed in himself that he was incapable of empathizing with any human being, least of all his own betrothed.

You were to be married the day after you turned sixteen. You dreaded to celebrate your birthday.

Of your mother you remembered little. You had no memories of her embracing you, or kissing you, or bathing you, of any of the things that ordinary mothers would do. But you remembered her teaching you to hold a trident. You remembered the sensation of her fingers in your scalp as she braided your hair. You remembered that she showed you how to spear fish, and how to roast an Arctic hen.

There were many things about your mother that you wish you could have known.

You wondered how she might have dealt with marriage. Her first wedding was arranged; your father became her first husband at sixteen. You never knew him. He disappeared at sea not long before your birth, and your mother married your stepfather. When she left, she charged him with governing the Water Tribe in her absence. Darusuka relished the power.

When you were fifteen Darusuka spent a great deal of time with a warrior who had curves and eyes in jewel-blue. You suspected, but you kept quiet. Eridan leapt too quickly to his favourite commander’s defence for your liking.

One cold and grey morning you finally seated yourself beside your fiancé, on the rim of Baitang Lake. He sat hunched up, watching the dark silhouettes of fish dart beneath the ripples.

‘Hey, Fef,’ he said.

‘Eridan.’

He smiled a little, then, and took your fingers. His were freezing cold.

You heard faint alarm bells. ‘What’s wrong, Eridan?’ you said.

‘Nothin’.’ He looked up at the sky, then back at you. The smile grew wider; it looked genuine and also a little disconcerting. ‘We’re gettin’ married next month, aren’t we?’

‘You’ve known that for nearly a year!’

‘Yeah, well, doesn’t stop me from bein’ happy about it, does it?’

‘Is there news?’

‘Actually, seein' as you ask, I heard some the other day.’ He put your hand down carefully in the snow, watching your face. ‘We’re goin’ to war.’

‘ _What?_ ’

‘That’s what I heard.’ He got up, and stretched. ‘About time, too.’

‘What do you mean _about time?_ ’

‘Come on, Fef, the Fire Nation’s been needlin’ at us for months now. They took the Xingba Islands months ago. About time we retaliated, don’t you think?’

He walked away. Little rivulets of water flew up around him as he retreated.

 

*       *       *

You met Sollux Kaputo at the age of ten, on the fence of an abandoned quarry.

‘Fuck off,’ he snapped, when he looked up and spotted you.

You gave him the middle finger.

Two seconds later, you were buried in dirt. He turned away with a _fucking_ smug smile, and you threw a rock at him.

In a long, long history of bad decisions, that became one of the worst ones that you ever made.

He had a pair of dark glasses, with metallic frames and obsidian lenses that glinted. He hated the sun. He had a complexion like grey curtains and the quickest temper you ever knew, excepting maybe your own. He wore brown breeches and sandals and had an unfortunate lisp and he could crush your spine with a pair of rocks in less than one point two five seconds if you managed to get on his bad side.

Sollux Kaputo was, in hindsight, one of the best things ever to happen to your life.

Sollux never gave the slightest fuck about your eyes. You asked to see his, once, and earned yourself a rock to the head. Subsequently, you came to some variety of mutual agreement that this was a topic best left undiscussed, and this turned out just fine for both parties involved.

He took to calling you _KK_. At first you were uncertain whether to find this vaguely endearing or punch him in the gut for it; you eventually decided to go with the former, because the latter might have resulted in serious injuries and sent your mother beside herself with worry. Sollux had a girl friend in the Fire Nation, called Aradia, whom he violently insisted was merely a _friend_ and not his _sweetheart_. You never bought this: you were raised to have an exceptionally low tolerance for bullshit. You never pressed the matter too hard either, mainly because you liked your bones whole and unshattered.

“So,” you said, one summer noon. You were lounging around in the quarry, young and arrogant and full of self-worth. “I heard that the Water Tribe might invade the Fire Nation.”

He tilted dark glasses that gleamed in the shadow of the wall to look at you. A sparrow squawked.

“Sounds like a fucking riot,” he said.

You both laughed.

 

*       *       *

Ten months into your friendship, you ran into Sollux at the quarry, purely by accident. That was the day that you came to several important conclusions about your friend and about your past.

‘I found something earlier,’ Sollux said, dislodging rocks as you approached. ‘Want to see?’

‘Oh, well.’ You waved a hand. ‘If His Insufferable Cockhole deems my humble ass worthy.’

He elbowed you hard in the gut. Sollux had very sharp elbows.

‘Shut up, shitstain. Look.’

Sollux leaned forward and picked a piece out of the dirt with two fingers.

‘Is that it?’ you said in disbelief. ‘Excuse me, I think I might have just lost the ability to tell an orange lump from a brown lump, could you maybe educate me—‘

‘KK, look out, there’s a scorpion-bee.’

You shrieked and leapt away from your seat as fast as you were able. Dust skidded beneath your sandals as you ran backwards.

‘ _Fuck_ , fuck!’ you screamed. ‘Where, where is it? Sollux, you son of a flying shit, tell me where, before I shove your stupid glasses up your nose!’

You looked at him. Between his thumb and forefinger he had a piece of amber pinched, and encased in that shard of sunset light lay a fat, furry insect with a curled stinger and beady eyes.

His smile made you want to punch his face.

‘Fuck you, you senseless barfpuppet,’ you panted, sinking back down beside Sollux. ‘I’m going to sock you so hard that your throat wrests control of your vocal chords from your brain and starts begging me for mercy.’

He snorted without the slightest sense of apology. ‘Good luck with that, weakling.’

‘Seriously, what is the deal with you and bees anyway? How the hell can you like _bees_ so much? They sting and they sound like old men with flatulence. You—‘

The glasses snapped upwards suddenly, a pair of hot windows.

‘My family were apiarists, you fucking dipshit.’

‘Uh—ah.’ You coughed. ‘Oh. Fuck.’

He lowered his gaze to his little shard. A breeze stifled the heat momentarily, like a swath of space in a sun-field. The white skin beneath the shock of dark hair was mute.

You glanced down at his long pale fingers, turning the stone over and over.

‘But...’ you ventured. ‘I thought... I always thought your family was, you know. _Dead_.’

‘They are.’

‘Oh. Sorry.’

Sollux blew air outwards like a deflating balloon.

‘It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.’

You slid a little in the dirt, feeling smaller and clammy and suddenly a little sickened. Sollux rested one long arm on his knees and turned his head away from you.

‘Fuck.’

‘It’s fine,’ he repeated, voice flat like shale.

‘No, well, excuse me if I don’t really suppose so! Your family is dead and I just blew a giant chute through the roof of my mouth, like the vacuous hamfister that I am.’

‘Your family is dead too.’

‘I never fucking knew them. You actually had parents. Parents who cared about you.’

Sollux’s glasses slipped down the sharp bridge of his nose.

‘If they had cared, maybe they would have decided to live for me.’

‘Oh, fuck my life.’ You clenched your fists in your hair. ‘How could I make this any _worse?_ ’

He glanced at you behind inscrutable shades.

The air rolled in a red wave. You could feel heat swimming off the dust; some bird squalled overhead, like a broken machine.

‘Fuck, Sollux! Why do you always wear those glasses?’

‘Well, you would’ve done the same if you had half a brain,’ Sollux snapped.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Blue eyes,’ Sollux said, thrusting a finger in your face. ‘Dark skin. Your hair is curly as fuck. You’re way too short to be Fire Nation. You’re not an airbender. And with the Northern Water Tribe knocking on doors and ruffling the firebenders’ proud little feathers, if I were you I would have covered as fast as I could.’

You stared at him. The pointed finger failed to waver.

‘ _Shit_.’

You squeezed your fingers into your hair, pushed through the sweat and attempted to say several things at once.

‘Fuck. You knew? Is it that obvious? Well, I mean, okay—‘

‘KK, anyone who isn’t stone-cold retarded could spot you from a mile away. It’s a sheer wonder of nature that you’ve survived for this long at all.’

‘Kanaya...’

‘Sorry to break it to you, KK, but you don’t look _remotely_ like her.’

‘I know! Fuck you, Sollux, I’m not a blind idiot!’ You rounded on him. ‘I _know_! Mom has this doucheshitting blue pendant that she keeps in a drawer, and apparently it was fucking _mine_. I’m not a moron, I can stitch two and two together. And you know what? For so many years I was _proud_ of it! I _wanted_ to be Water Tribe. I had this shameful, puerile fantasy that march up there one day after I grew up, all “look at me and my ugly visage, I’m one of you assholes!” and then they’d finally welcome me home with open arms.’

You snorted and hunched your arms across your chest. ‘Then I _really_ grew up, and shit got real.’

Sollux turned his piece of amber over in his hands.

Then he leapt up, pocketed the frozen bee and crouched in the dirt. He pointed at the rubble first with two left-hand fingers, then with two on the right, as he might have sized up a contestant in the spar ring.

‘I’ve always wanted to see,’ he muttered, ‘whether I can bend this pile of rocks into a fort.’

 

*       *       *

‘Eridan.’ Your tone is calm, professional. Befitting of the heiress that you are.

‘Yeah, Fef?’

‘I think we need to talk.’

The hammer slips and hits his hand instead of the nail.

‘FUCK!’

He turns around nursing his hand, face red. A piece of streaked hair hangs to his eyebrows.

‘About what?’

You purse your lips. ‘Come with me for a second.’

He stares at you blankly.

‘I’ve got tea back at home, if you want it.’

‘Fuck. Okay.’ He drops the hammer and flicks a finger upwards; a stream of water loops towards him and solidifies around his rapidly swelling wrist.

You turn away and his footsteps crunch behind you.

Eridan has recovered his composure by the time you get back and flings himself into a chair with habitual aplomb. His cape puddles to the floor and he sinks into your cushions with an ostentatious yawn; the arm with the ice props itself on the table. He smells like peppermint.

You offer tea. He declines.

‘So,’ Eridan says. Somewhere along the journey he found the time to rake his hair back into place. ‘What is it?’

You pat the ice off your clothes and clasp your hands carefully. Behind his lenses, Eridan’s eyes don’t look worried, merely suspicious. Odd.

‘We need to talk about Vriska Shiketo.’

_‘That_ bitch?’

‘I think you know what this is about, Eridan.’

Puzzlement, genuine or feigned, passes over his aquiline features. Then his head jerks.

‘Are you implyin’—?’ he spits.

His fingers clench.

‘I’m not a smuggler or a fuckin’ hypocrite, Fef. She can take care of her own little fuckin’ _business.’_

‘No, not that.’

You rearrange your skirts and press your mouth into a line. ‘Do I need to spell it out, Eridan Amupora?'

‘What?’

You inhale deeply. ‘You took Vriska Shiketo belowdecks on one of the tribe ships six days ago, three weeks before you were going to be married. You made out with her for fifteen minutes after fighting for ten. You would likely have gone further if you hadn’t heard Sachie coming downstairs.’

Eridan frowns. The line between his brows deepens.

‘Well,’ he says slowly, ‘yeah, okay, I did. So—‘

You spring up from your chair and stalk towards the door, battling the urge to scream. You have never before wanted so badly to throw a lamp at someone.

‘Fef, what—‘

You whip around. _‘What?’_

Outside, a gull squawks.

_‘What?_ You dare ask me _what?’_

Eridan raises his eyebrows. You want to hit him.

‘But—‘

‘We’re _engaged,_ you despicable fucking _brat!_ I’ve been your emotional sink for _twelve years_. Twelve. Spirits-damned. Years. I dealt with every little problem you threw at me, even when I was literally _this_ close to snapping. I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Is this how you treat the only person who actually has some _tiny modicum of concern for your well-being?_ ’

‘Okay, I swear it’s not like that—‘

‘Not like _what?_ You just admitted, to my face, that you have more regard for an unreliable criminal like Vriska Shiketo than you have for the person who will be your wife in fifteen days!’

‘It’s not romantic, the thing with Vris—‘

‘This is not a teenage drama, Eridan. We are discussing _your marriage. How_ can you possibly be so blasé about admitting that you’ve tainted our future before you’ve even said the vows?’

‘I didn’t! I still love you, Fef—‘

‘And you’re _still_ telling me that. Don’t you have _any_ sense of shame?’

You turn your back. Eridan gets up, slowly; you hear the floorboards creak as he moves towards you. The shutters rattle.

You jump back against the wall and scream. ‘ _Don’t touch me!_ ’

‘But—didn’t you just—‘

You breathe in deeply.

‘I don’t want you to show me that you want me as much as Shiketo,’ you say, with a demeanour of very forced calm. ‘This is not about sex, Eridan. I want you to promise that you will _never_ put my dignity— and my tribe’s dignity— at risk again.’

Eridan folds his arms. ‘Fine.’

‘So you’ll stop seeing Vriska?’

‘But I told you—‘

You hold up a hand and turn away.

‘I’ve had enough,’ you say through gritted teeth. ‘I’m ending this. Tomorrow.’

‘Fef!’ he says, aghast. ‘You can’t just—it’s fifteen days before the wedding—‘

‘Yes, I can,’ you say. ‘And I will.’

‘There’s no fuckin’ _reason_ —‘

You bring your fingers to your collarbone and unclasp his betrothal necklace.

‘You can have this back.’

‘Fef, come on, the tribe rules don’t even _let_ you— ‘

‘Eridan,’ you say. ‘I never wanted to wear that necklace. I only wanted to be your friend. You— and my own _stepfather_ — forced that marriage upon me. This was the last straw. It’s over. I’m sorry, but I won’t be your slave ever again.’

Eridan looks like he’s been slapped with a wet fish. You take one last look at his face before you push your ex-fiancé outside and slam the door.

 

*       *       *

The fisher-boat driver raises a leathered eyebrow at you through the downpour. Rain hammers the dock.

‘Who are you, pretty princess?’

‘That is not your business,’ you reply.

‘You not coming back?’

Your entire torso is trembling in fury. The little boat bobs up and down on the sleet-fragmented coastwater like a cork.

The fisherman squints. ‘Any chance of more?’

‘No,’ you say firmly. ‘I could also report you for illegal trade with the Earth Kingdom.’

He looks down, and then abruptly he flings the mooring rope into the grey mist. It lands with a splash, out of sight.

‘Get in. You rat me out and I throw you overboard. Got it?’

You square your jaw and meet his beady eyes. Your feet find the sodden planks, and then before you know it the boat is moving.

 

Your name is Feferi Pikushi, and on the fifth day of the fourth month you finally left your tribe for good.

 

*       *       *

The rain is driving down like a solid barrage.

‘Sollux!’

He’s lounging on a cushion, eyes closed. His thin shoulders are hunched. ‘What?’

‘What was that?’ you say.

‘Paranoid schizophrenia?’ Sollux replies unkindly.

‘Get up, dickhead!’

Sollux slides his glasses on. The areas beneath his lenses are dark with fatigue. He doesn’t look well.

‘I can’t hear shit.’

Abruptly a bang shatters the drumming of the rain. Sollux starts.

Kanaya comes down the stairs in a pottery-coloured robe. ‘What is going on?’

‘I don’t fucking know!’ you yell. ‘Kanaya, can you open the door or something?’

Your sister raises an eyebrow. The banging starts again.

‘ _Open this, it’s f – f –freez--!_ ' A sneeze knifes through the words, silencing the voice before it can continue.

It is unmistakably a female one. Both of Sollux’s eyebrows crawl upwards towards his hairline. Kanaya’s white-brown robe swishes as she navigates the floor like a leopard hunting prey; a silver butterfly blade appears smoothly in her hand.

‘Be prepared,’ she says in a low voice. Then she throws the door open with a crash.

A slim tiny woman tumbles into the room and leans against the wall, trembling, shivering, wet hair plastered all over her grey travelling clothes. The curve of her cheek is fine and tan and angry and her bag is soaked through with rain.

‘Look at me,’ Kanaya says. The sword points itself at the young woman’s neck. ‘Tell us who you are.’

The woman raises her head, and Kanaya recoils. You nearly choke. Sollux leans back against the wall in a considered fashion.

‘Feferi,’ she says in a measured voice. ‘I’m from the Northern Water Tribe. Thank you kindly for opening the door.’

 

You cannot wrest your attention from her eyes. Her face is angular and sharp and her lashes stand out like a pair of bright fern fronds; her lips and nose are red with cold.

Tan skin, curly hair, blue eyes. Water Tribe.

You want to ask her a thousand questions, ten thousand, but the words are tangled around your tonsils. Feferi lifts a cup of tea to her lips and shudders.

‘Why are you here?’ you blurt.

She grimaces, putting the cup down. Rain sluices through the drainage outside.

‘My fiancé was... not someone that I could have married. I would have gone insane. The wedding was two weeks away.’

‘So, uh,’ you say, ‘you came all this way, and got completely soaked, to get rid of your _fiancé?_ ’

‘Well,’ she says. ‘I had other obligations also. I couldn’t have met them.’

She places her hands in her lap. The nails are small and neat and mauve.

‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.’ She drains her tea and stands up. ‘I should be going. Forgive me.’

Kanaya rises and catches her. ‘Stay. If you haven’t already caught a cold, you most certainly will if you go now.’

Feferi hesitates, and then she sits tentatively, wet blue dress peeking through her storm cloak. Apparently satisfied, Kanaya disappears.

‘I’m still worried,’ Feferi says. ‘He might have been an idiot, but he wasn’t harmless.’

You cough. ‘Wow. So he must have been a complete asshole. No wonder you ran.’

‘I didn’t _run!_ ’ Feferi protests. ‘Well, all right, I suppose I did. I doubt my stepfather’s going to welcome me back now. But... I was _so angry_. He treated me like a hand towel. I existed to clean up after him and to fix his mistakes.’

‘Oh, I see. Did he, um, cheat on you?’ you ask in what you hope is an understanding tone.

‘Yes. Although he insisted that it wasn’t cheating.’

‘Sounds bad,’ you say sympathetically.

Sollux snickers, and you glare at him. He fails to look concerned.

Feferi glances at Sollux. ‘I’m so sorry, how could I be so rude? What’s your name?’

Sollux steeples his fingers in front of his chest.

‘Karkat,’ he says.

With a snarl that would probably have been more appropriate to a cat-owl than to a human being, you pick up the nearest chopstick and throw it at his head.

‘He’s a piece of cretinous fuming fuckshit, ignore him. _I’m_ Karkat. The skullfuck-infested asshole with rocks for brains is Sollux.’

Feferi frowns. Your best friend chortles, and you somehow refrain from kicking a chair his way to knock the smirk off.

Then, Kanaya enters the room again, all jasmine smiles, and sets a tray of seedcakes on the table.

‘My profuse apologies for that rough start, and for my brother’s behaviour. I’m Kanaya, and it’s lovely to meet you, Feferi.’

Feferi grins like a one-woman lightshow. ‘Oh, finally, someone who knows manners!’

‘Hey!’ you exclaim. ‘I _tried_ to be polite until Sollux butted in like the sorry sack of shit he is—’

‘Wow, yes, KK, it’s _my_ fault that you have a mouth like an uncleaned privy.‘

Your sister turns to look at you.

‘ _Don’t interrupt me_ , you assclowns,’ you say. ‘I’m not done. Where did you get those cakes, Kanaya? I thought we ran out _months_ ago—mmf!‘

‘Excuse my brother,’ says Kanaya from close behind your head, ‘he is a piece of cretinous fuming fuckshit, please ignore him.’ She looks at you thoughtfully as you claw at her hands. ‘But he certainly has some wondrous insults. Karkat, you don’t mind me borrowing some, do you? You have plenty.’

‘Mmfffm mm mfm!’

‘Did I hear “yes, that’s right?”’ Kanaya asks, peering into your eyes.

Feferi grins as if she’s just discovered New Year’s.

‘All right, Kanaya,’ she says, ‘ _please_ tell me that you have spare floor space.’

Kanaya turns with a frown. ‘Why?’

Your guest’s smile is so wide that her features are momentarily eclipsed by her teeth. ‘Sorry to inconvenience you and everything, but I think I am staying here _forever_.’

 

*       *       *

This is how you came to be hosting a stunningly pretty runaway beneath your roof. For the large part, she turns out to be a pleasant lodger who marvels over your chinaware and is too eager to help with housework.

She and Sollux take to each other _fast_. You’ve never seen the nerd so fucking happy. They stick to each other like mandarin turtle-ducks, and it’s all you can do not to throw them together in a locked room and tell them to fucking sort it out already, make it official before it drives you insane.

She claims she’s from a village family, and you have no choice but to take her words at face value.

Over the months that she’s in your house, several strangers come to the door. A man selling yellow flowers. A lost-looking child in brown. A pair of lovers who claim to have found the wrong door, and a woman with a litter of cats to give away. Kanaya and your mother think little of these visitors. The Earth Kingdom hosts plenty of wanderers; natural that a few will appear in the neighbourhood.

One winter’s day, the last visitor appears, and shortly thereafter all hell breaks loose.


	2. The Avatar Returns

“You _sure_? It’s getting late. And I don’t like the look of those clouds!”

Your friend Jade is a fusspot. The clouds in question are thick, mysterious and ever so inviting. You doubt you could have refused even had you wanted to.

Liv Tyler slaps the earth with her tail, ending the discussion before it can begin in earnest. You smile, ignoring the thunder that rumbles overhead.

“See?”

You grab the reins and give them a flick, settling yourself into the saddle. “Come on, girl, we’re going home!”

Jade pouts.

Liv Tyler bellows her assent, gathering her legs and leaping into the sky. You wave at Jade as you rise. She gives you a reluctant little smile. 

*       *       *

A familiar face awaits you when you touch down the next morning.

“Hey, Tavros!”

The airbender smiles.

“Ah, hi, John. How was Omashu? That was the place you said you were going to, right?”

You leap up to help the stablemaster get the bison out of her harness.

“The next time you’re there, you should try the delivery chutes. They are _mean._ ”

Tavros smiles.

“So, um, how’s our friend, Jade?” he asks. “That's to say, has she been, healthy, and also, what is she doing these days?”

You drop back down to the ground as Tavros sweeps out an arm, generating a wind to blow the now-loose saddle off Liv Tyler’s back. The bison shakes herself and wanders towards the hay nearby.

“She’s doing great! Her earthbending lessons are coming along. She won’t let me meet her teacher, though.”

“Becquerel, right?”

“Yeah, that’s the guy. You know him?”

Tavros shakes his head, coaxing Liv Tyler into her stable. “Not as such, well, not personally, anyway. He’s come up, once or twice, in conversation, but I, have never met him.” Once Liv Tyler is safely moored you glance upwards, and your eyes sparkle at the sight of the other airbenders zooming around outside.

“You got everything under control here?” you ask.

Tavros nods. “Yeah, I think I can handle these guys. Can’t I?” he asks one of the calves nearby.

The bison _moos_ , and the two of you laugh.

“Oh!” Tavros exclaims as you turn to leave. You stop in the doorway, staff already in hand.

“Uh, before I forget. Ai Gaobei says that you should, well, he asked me to tell you that you should see him. He said it was, important. And, he said, not to waste time racing the new Air Scouts around the mountain.”

You roll your eyes. That was _one_ time, and the old codger _still_ refuses to let it go. “Fine. I’ll go and see what he wants. Thanks, Tavros.”

The stablehand waves as you unfurl the glider from your staff and take to the skies.

“Oh, and, happy birthday!” he calls, but you’re already gone.

*       *       *

The mountain air laughs in your ears as you fly.

Despite Tavros’s directives, you can’t help but linger, drinking clean air, circling the Temple. The students stare, awestruck, and you can’t resist showing off just a _little_ bit, rolling through the clouds like a pinwheel. The wind snares the wings of your glider and tosses you high, high, up into the blueness.

The children laugh. Their monk shoots a glare at you, but you return merely a winning smile. You climb higher and higher, reaching out, trying to hold the sky in your hands.

*       *       *

As usual, your mentor is manning the open-air ovens. An assortment of fruit smells pokes at your nostrils. Ai Gaobei lifts a hand in greeting, drawing the peel from the stone and setting fresh pies out to cool.

“Ah,” he says as you touch down, “I was wondering when you would be returning.”

You bow. “Sorry, master. We were grounded for a day or so by a huge storm. It’s great to be home.”

The monk hums, coaxing the cooling pies out of the oven, spinning them with a thread of air.

“And what is the Earth Kingdom like these days?” he asks, sliding another pie into the fire and stoking the flame.

“Oh, you know.” A grin spreads across your lips. You simply _cannot_ refuse the opportunity.

“They are _rocking it_ down there.”

The pie that hits you square in the face is lemon-flavoured. Wiping the pastry from your face, you manage to glare at your mentor for perhaps a second before the two of you erupt into laughter. You retaliate weakly, flinging some of the lemon his way, but he dodges and smiles.

You use the sleeves of your robe to clean the rest of the tart off your skin. “Another warm welcome-home treat from my mentor to add to the history books,” you say, leaning back. “And you wonder why I was late!”

He shakes his head and ruffles your hair fondly, but then his expression turns sober. He leans the wooden peel against the wall, turns slowly to face you, and suddenly your mentor looks very tired indeed.

“You missed more than just your old mentor, John, in coming home late,” he says.

“What?”

“Come with me.”

*       *       *

The both of you walk along the south wall. Herds of sky bison roam below, accompanied by orange-yellow airbender smudges.

“I remember the day you were born,’ Gaobei murmurs distantly. ‘I was there, did I ever tell you that? I was the first one to hold you in my hands.”

You wonder, not for the first time, whether Ai Gaobei is your father.

You will never know for certain; nor, really, do you wish to. Your people keep no records of family or lines of succession. Your inheritance is the sky, and your family is comprised of your fellow Air Nomads. The breeze remembers not its forefathers: why should its handlers?

It wouldn’t change anything, but sometimes you wonder anyway.

“You were a true child of the air. You had a laugh like the autumn winds and eyes like sky. You were never ordinary.”

Ai Gaobei smiles. “I think I knew, even then, that Destiny would lead you to greatness.”

You suddenly feel a rising sense of panic. A hole in your stomach forms and begins to chew on you.

“Master, why are you telling me this?”

“And,” you add, noticing that the monk is leading you through the gates to the temple proper, “where are you taking me?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Master?” you repeat, and the anxiety in your voice is thick.

He smiles at you, a sad sort of smile, and his eyes twinkle with fierce pride. He stops walking and looks up, and with a jolt of dread, you realize that you’ve come to the threshold of the Elder Council’s chamber.

“They will not let me in,” he says. “The Elders were very specific. I will go with you as far as this, and no further.”

“But – but you’re my mentor! Can’t you… can’t you at least tell me why I’m here?”

The monk shakes his head and rests a heavy hand on your shoulder. “All will become clear shortly, son. I will wait outside. Now go. It would not do to keep the Elders waiting.”

With that he bows, almost… reverentially? Deferentially? You’re not sure, and it does nothing to ease that pit in your stomach.

And then he is gone.

*       *       *

The Elders are waiting. The air is cold. It tastes of purity, of clarity, and the presence of the spiritual leaders of your people weighs upon you like a physical mass. Currently, the Elders look like a group of living statues; the only movement in the room is breathing.

“Welcome, John,” Master Yijing says.

In the center of the room, beneath a white parasol, Master Assaji’s eyes are closed to the world. You’ve heard the awed whispers that Assaji once undertook a pilgrimage to the Spirit World, and that he returned from it touched by the spirits. You wonder if he is there now.

“I trust,” Yijing says to you, all politeness, “that your journey to Omashu was pleasant?”

“Yes, Master Yijing.”

“We asked your mentor to bring you to us,” Master Faxian says. “He told you nothing of the reason?”

“No, Master Faxian.”

A beat of silence.

“Masters, why thi—“

“John,” Assaji says. The High Monk’s eyes do not open.

You swallow and nod, bowing your head.

Assaji’s breathing is quiet, calm and focused. You focus on the sounds, trying to clear your mind of trepidation. It is hard work.

Beside Master Tilopa is a bundle of some kind. It looks ancient. It is somehow familiar.

“John,” Tilopa says. “Sixteen years ago, a great man died. He was a good man and a powerful man. He was a man upon whom rested the heavy burden of keeping this world in balance.”

He looks at you. “Today is your birthday, is it not?”

“Yes, Master. Today is the thirteenth day of the fourth month.”

He nods. “Sixteen years ago you entered this world. You were gifted. By thirteen years old you were as capable as those twice your age. By fourteen you had bested your teachers. At fifteen you demonstrated mastery of the thirty-six tiers of airbending, and in doing so earned your tattoos and were initiated.”

“Y-yes, Master,” you begin, rubbing at the blue on your wrist. “But, um, I–”

“Now the origins of your talents will be revealed to you,” Tilopa says, holding up the cloth bundle. He stands and spreads the cloth before you.

“Do you recognize these?” Tilopa asks.

A clay turtle gazes thoughtfully at you, as does a wooden monkey. A pull-string propeller is accompanied by a hand drum with a yellow-red spiral.

Your brows knit together.

“Wha...” you say. “These were mine. My toys.”

“Not just toys,” corrects Master Jizang. “These are artifacts, dating back thousands of years. Countless before you played with them as you did in the cradle. These are known as the Avatar Relics.”

You think your heart might freeze in your ribs.

“Avatar...?”

“You, John, selected these toys from hundreds or thousands of others available to you. They are symbolic of the four Nations and the four elements.” Jizang holds your gaze with his own. “You chose them because they were familiar to you. Even in your infancy, you remembered these. You had played with them countless times prior.”

There is a pounding in your head, fierce and loud. The five elders stand. Statues, come to life at last: they regard you with bright, knowing, thoughtful eyes, and then they _bow,_ bending to their knees and touching their foreheads to the floor gravely.

“Avatar John,” they say as one. “We welcome you.”

*       *       *

“Masters, please!” you exclaim, panicked, “you must have the wrong—!”

A breeze ruffles your robes.

“John,” Assaji says. “That is quite enough.”

“Just because I played with some toys—”

“It was not only the Relics,” Faxian interrupts, having seated himself once again. “Airbending comes naturally to you, for you have mastered the art many times in your past lives. You have shown great spiritual prowess as well, all but unheard of in one so young.”

“Not only that,” Assaji continues, sitting back. His voice is gentle. “Raava shines bright within you. We have seen it before, young one. Your soul is, indubitably, the same as that of the Avatar before you. There is no mistake.”

Silence.

Your eyes sting as you draw in a shuddering breath.

You swallow, and let the breath roll out your nostrils. “So... what do I do now?” you ask.

Faxian shares a glance with Assaji. “What have you heard of the Northern Water Tribe, Avatar?”

*       *       *

“You’re, um, pulling my leg, right? That is, the correct expression, isn’t it?”

“Tavros, come on, even for _me_ this would be a shitty prank!”

You’ve since returned to the stables, and you are helping Tavros brush down the bisons with unsteady hands. Assisting Tavros around the stables usually helps you soothe your nerves. Somewhat.

“I... I’m just having trouble processing this. It’s a lot to take in! You should have heard Master Yijing. _You are the arbiter between man and spirit_ , _you must keep the world in_ balance, _this is your_ duty, like, yeah, no pressure at all, John!”

You aren’t hyperventilating. Not quite.

Tavros shrugs, his attention focused on the bisons. “You’ve already done it, haven’t you?”

This gives you pause. “What do you mean?”

“Well, not _you_ as in, uh, the, person right now here, with me, but when you were, other people. Who were also the Avatar.”

You grunt noncommittally. “I dunno, dude. Doesn’t feel that way.” Truthfully, though, it _does_ make youfeel a little better.

Tavros glances sidelong at you, running the brush along the bison’s head. 

“So, you’re going to be leaving, I mean leaving the temple, soon?”

“Yeah. Faxian said that we have connections in the South Pole, so I guess I’m headed there.”

“Doesn’t one of your friends live there, in the Southern Tribes?”

At your raised eyebrow, Tavros shrugs again.

“Well, Jade mentions her sometimes, when we talk. I think I met her once, when I was visiting Gamzee.”

He stares intently at nothing.

“John, if you, uh, ever plan on staying at the Southern Temple, you know, during your Avatar travels, would you mind saying, greetings, to him from me? I mean, to Gamzee, from me?”

You shrug. “Sure, I guess. And yeah, Ai Gaobei said something about stopping there along the way. It shouldn’t be that much of a problem.”

“Oh. Um, thank you. Is he, your mentor, is he going with you?”

“Only to the South Pole, I think. Just to get me started on the right foot, you know?”

“Not really, no, seeing that your Avatar journey, is not really something that I can understand. Given that, I am not the Avatar, and all that.”

“Bluh.” Tavros is a stand-up guy, no question, but a great sympathizer he is not, at least not for anything that naturally stands on two legs. You would bet good copper that he was a gemsbok bull in one of his past lives.

Behind you, Liv Tyler lets out a low rumble, nuzzling your back with her great shaggy head. Tavros looks first at the bison, then at you. He adopts a very solemn expression.

“She says that you worry too much,” he tells you, “but also that you will be fine, because you will have her wisdom to guide you.”

“Tavros!” you protest, but you’re laughing.

*       *       *

Ai Gaobei finds you in the stables a few hours later, a small pack hanging from his shoulders.

“Well, Avatar?” he says. You manage not to cringe at being addressed as such. There is a distinct note of pride in your mentor’s voice. “Are you ready to depart?”

Running a hand through your hair, you nod. “I think I am.”

“Hey, uh, before you go,” Tavros says, producing a note from the folds of his robes. “If you do decide to stop in the Southern Temple, like we discussed earlier, do you think you could deliver this to Gamzee?”

You smile, tucking the letter into a pocket. “It’s in safe hands, Tavros.”

He manages a grin, cheeks reddening. “Thanks, John. And, uh, here’s something for you and Liv Tyler.”

By now you’ve leapt into the saddle, taking hold of Liv Tyler’s reins. You grin and accept the little bundle, pushing it into her saddlebags. “You got it! Keep an eye on everyone for me, yeah?”

He nods, but if he says something it is lost in Liv Tyler’s roar as wind billows beneath her. “Yip-yip!” you shout, and at once you take flight, soaring through the wide stable doors and out into the sky beyond.

You fly high, and when you look back, the Northern Air Temple is just passing out of sight, engulfed by laughing clouds and a wind that spins and whirls, racing out from behind the mountain to spread the news:

The Avatar has returned.


	3. The Last Visitor

It’s your fiancé, wearing a scarf and navy breeches, looking like a Fire Nation military painting with icy blue eyes.

_How—?_

‘Well, if it isn’t our lovely princess,’ Eridan says softly.

The door slams open against the wall like a stick of firepowder.  ‘Feferi, your boy-toy—‘ Karkat bursts into the hall and stops dead, bare feet squeaking and clunking against the tiles. ‘Wait, what the _fuck?_ ’

‘This...’ you say in a querulous voice. Karkat stares at him in astonishment. ‘Karkat, this is my... ex-fiancé. His name is Eridan Amupora.’

Karkat blinks and stumbles rapidly backwards. Eridan frowns. ‘What have you told them, Fef?’

It’s been so long. Months. You clench the doorknob until your knuckles turn white, biting hard on the inside of your lip. The ground beneath your feet is slick and it feels faintly oily.

‘Eridan,’ you say. ‘I don’t know how you’re here or why, but my life isn’t your concern anymore.’

You brace yourself for the outburst, the objections. Eridan’s glass-column eyes harden. The pale line of his lips goes narrow.

Then, to your astonishment, he takes a step back and kneels, on the ground outside, head bowed.

Kanaya appears. Her eyes could have frozen the Fire Nation over; Sollux is slouching some few feet behind.

‘You,’ she says, addressing Eridan. The butterfly blade appears as if from water. ‘Explain at once who you are and what your purpose is in coming here.’

The silver point flashes with the light of the snow outside.

Eridan looks up. Some ugly shard of resentment passes through him when he makes eye contact, but it’s gone within a moment. The eyes behind the lenses are very calm.

‘I’m Eridan Amupora,’ he says. ‘Northern Water Tribe. I was goin’ to be married. To Fef. To Feferi.’

Kanaya moves like a rope dart. The blade immediately finds Eridan’s neck. Eridan blinks and shifts backwards.

‘Go at once,’ Kanaya says, very softly, ‘and we may not harm you, Eridan Amupora.’

‘Kanaya.’

Kanaya looks at you.

You swallow. ‘I’m sorry. I think I have to listen to what he has to say. I can’t compromise your safety.‘

Kanaya’s sea-green eyes meet yours, and she nods once. You never told her about your heritage, but you can see that she understands. A flick of her wrist, and a tiny scarlet gash, like a bite wound, appears on Eridan’s throat; Eridan gasps and flinches away, bare hands scrabbling in the snow.

You walk to the left so that Eridan faces you directly. His beryl-coloured eyes follow.

‘What is this, Eridan?’ you ask softly. ‘What do they want you to do?’

‘What?’

‘Don’t play the fool! You’re a waterbender. They can’t have just sent you at this time by accident! What are you doing?’

Kanaya’s eyes widen in sudden understanding. You look at her grimly.

‘It’s winter. They sent him here when there was snow.’

Kanaya’s sword presses a little harder into his skin. Eridan yelps.

‘How long have your people known where Feferi was, Amupora?’

Your ex-fiancé stares at her with equal measures fright and incredulity, as though this is not at all going to plan. Then he throws himself away from her blade.

Kanaya’s silk dress ripples as straight as a streamer, and a _cling_ of metal sounds out as she flies through the doorway. Tiny jets of water appear immediately, removing Kanaya’s purchase. Eridan spreads his hands and his feet and spins. Kanaya’s sword hits a newly created encasement of ice, and bounces away. She lands on her feet some distance away and snarls like a hunting cat-owl.

‘That,’ Eridan says, panting, ‘was unnecessary. You could have just fuckin’ listened to me, Fef. You could have _trusted_ me for once.’

‘I beg to differ,’ says Kanaya, cold as the trodden ground. She appears to be making a considerable effort to disguise the fact that she is breathing, perhaps as hard as Eridan is.

Eridan ignores her and appeals to you.

‘Fef. I won’t force you to marry me, all right? I’m not what you want in life, I get that.’ He stretches a hand out to you. ‘You were right. I’m here for a reason, and that’s not it.’

‘What is your reason, then, Eridan?’

‘We need you back.’ Eridan presses two hands against the ice like a prison-inmate might press against the bars.

‘Please, Fef, listen to me. Your mother, she’s been gone for twelve years, you know, and now she's _comin' back_. This will be a monumental moment in our tribe’s history. Your _people_ need you back. _We_ fuckin’ need your support.’

You inhale deeply and shut your eyes.

‘Feferi,’ Karkat interrupts, ‘I’m sorry, all right, but this sure doesn’t sound like a village family background to me.’

You press your lips together, hard, and clench your fists like you might have wrapped them around a rope that held you over the edge of a sheer cliff. Extraordinarily enough, Eridan remains silent. You spare a glance behind you. Kanaya’s expression is carefully blank. Your ex-fiancé looks mildly irate, as if he’s decided to take Karkat’s comment as a personal affront.

Sollux. Oh, Sollux.

‘Fine,’ you finally say, inhaling deeply. ‘I’ve intruded upon your hospitality long enough. It’s time you knew. I was the heiress to the chieftainship of the Northern Water Tribe.’

A stunned silence greets this proclamation. Eridan scowls at you.

‘I understand,’ you say softly, ‘if you no longer want such a personage in your home. You have that right. I lied to you. I shouldn’t have.’

No one speaks.

You  look pleadingly at Sollux, whose expression is inscrutable. He stands as still as the snow. He doesn’t look affronted, or angry. The stony impassivity marring his face is worse, a thousand times worse.

‘Oh, Sollux,’ you whisper.

‘Who is this?’ Eridan cuts in, tone hard. ‘Your new boyfriend?’

Sollux’s hands move like arrows, and Eridan gasps as his head bangs against the ceiling of his ice.

‘Say one more word, bilgefuck,’ Sollux hisses, ‘and we will see whether your head is as hard as you seem to think it is.’

Eridan snarls, showing teeth. He looks genuinely frightening, even with one side of his cheek red and crammed like a doll against a ceiling of his own creation.

‘Asshole,’ he spits. ‘I came here with noble fuckin’ intentions. I would never lay a finger on Fef. Learn some respect, ignoramus, your precious little girl is _royalty_ and so am I.’

Sollux moves. Eridan moves simultaneously.

‘ _STOP!_ ’ you shriek.

Both freeze. You leap forward, grab Sollux’s face and hold his nose practically level with your own.

‘ _Listen to me_ , Sollux, okay? Eridan was my only friend for a very long time. He is extremely easy to rile and he _hates_ being trodden on. He’s smarter than you think he is. He has a habit of holding long grudges. We need to hear him out.’

‘I’m not fucking scared, FF. He has _no_ right to treat you like that. I don’t blame you for running.’

‘ _Sollux!_ Look, he seems completely unreasonable, but I can tell he has something to say. He hasn’t just come to squabble with you. He’s not going to leave until he says it, or until he dies.’

Sollux blows air through his nose vehemently.

‘That second option sounds pretty damn attractive, FF.’

You smile and kiss the tip of his nose. The tension in his neck loosens a little. You let go, and Sollux puts a protective hand on your elbow.

‘You,’ you say, addressing Eridan. ‘I don’t belong to you any longer. I am not yours. Understand?’

Eridan’s eyes narrow into slits.

‘Sollux here is the river of my heart—‘ Sollux snorts a little against your hair— ‘and you won’t come between us. If you do, I am not coming back, ever. I’m giving you a chance, because even though you humiliated me in the worst way possible, after knowing you for fifteen years I still owe you some credit for coming all the way here to talk to me. But— _one more_ mistake—I’m not your pet anymore, Eridan. I _will_ keep my promises.’

Eridan squints, and then slowly nods. You return his gesture and turn to the others.

‘My ex-fiancé is—not the most pleasant of messengers, I admit—but I believe that I owe it to him, and to my tribe, to listen. You don’t have to stay, if you don’t want to.’

They all shake their heads, one by one. Kanaya pulls her sword away from the snow and brushes the icicles away carefully with the hem of her cloak.

‘All right, Eridan,’ you say. ‘I want you to get out of that iceblock. Sollux, please, let him down. He’s going to break his back in a moment. Eridan, I want you to stand next to that bank and tell me exactly what you want to say. No waterbending. As long as you don’t make any hostile moves- that includes bending, or trying to use your knives- nobody will hurt you.’

‘Are you sure?’ Karkat mutters under his breath. ‘I think this shitwhiff desperately needs some whacking.’

‘I would be delighted to oblige,’ murmurs Kanaya.

You smile. Kanaya leans carefully on a tree, watching. Eridan hesitates.

‘If you don’t start melting that ice in three seconds, Eridan, your chance is gone. Three—‘

A small liquid patch appears beneath Eridan’s feet. Sollux slams the pile of earth back into the ground with a crash; the resulting impact creates several scars that run willy-nilly through the snow.

‘Ow! What the _fuck_ was that for?’ Eridan exclaims.

You sigh.

‘Eridan, do not start this again. Just get on your feet.’

Eridan glares daggers at you but finally complies.

*       *       *

Several minutes later, Eridan trails off into silence, confronted with four stony faces that exhibit varying degrees of scepticism.

‘Bullshit,’ Sollux says. ‘Feferi’s mom vanishes into nowhere for twelve years, and then suddenly turns up again all ' _hey fuckers, I’m here to lead you to peace and goodwill?_ ' You and your favourite commander are going to attack the Fire Nation with her consent _only_ to reclaim your territory, nothing more? All of the other nations will magically accept the Water Tribe as a trade partner because of that? Nice fucking try, shithead.’

The tendons in his bony wrists are taut, and the jutting frame of his ribs presses against your back. Eridan scoffs.

‘Like _you_ would know.’

‘You don’t have a shred of evidence. You’re just pulling this crap about Feferi’s mom out of your ass.’

Eridan barks a short little laugh, like the cough of a stabbed person. ‘Oh, but I got evidence, _scum_.’

Beneath Sollux’s scrutiny Eridan produces a pair of silver bracelets, delicate, connected by a thin bright chain like handcuffs and glinting in the winter sun. Sollux’s fingers clench tighter than binding ropes.

‘Haven’t you ever wondered what your mother was doing all those years, Fef?’ Eridan says softly.

You take Sollux’s wrist and grip it tightly. You had wondered.

You always assumed that she abandoned you.

Eridan sees your emotions on your face. He always knew how to read you.

‘Your mother spent those twelve years developin’ _these_ ,’ Eridan says, holding the bracelets up. ‘They let two benders connect their energies. Believe me, Fef, these will connect the world like it’s never been connected before. The Water Tribe’s been a tiny little presence in the corner a the globe for far too long. She doesn’t want you to inherit _that_ , Fef. She wants to have you inherit somethin’ better. You could inherit a Water Tribe whose might is recognized by the fuckin’ _world_.’

Sollux holds you tightly, gripping the sides of your upper arms. You’re too weak to return the pressure.

Karkat looks at Eridan’s pieces of silver with disgust. ‘How reliable exactly is this _technology_ , do you know?’

Eridan raises an eyebrow.

‘Well, Kar—‘

‘Don’t you _dare_ call me that—‘

‘—all we need is a guinea pig.’

Eridan’s eyes fall on Sollux, who freezes as if he’s had icy water dumped over his head.

‘No _fucking_ way in a million shitcaked miles of hell!’ Karkat says. ‘I’m not letting you try your magical garbage on my best friend, thanks! What if it hurts him?’

‘Well, fuck, fine, suit yourself—‘

Sollux shakes off your hold on his arm and steps forward.

‘I’ll do it,’ he says.

‘What the _actual_ —‘ Karkat’s eyes go as wide as twin moons. ‘Sollux Kaputo, do you have a _deathwish?_ ’

‘I can take this idiot.’

‘You—‘ Karkat throws his hands up so violently that a flock of sparrows in a nearby tree scatters. ‘Spirits, what the fuck am I supposed to _do_ with you, you primitive-minded dunderfucker? This situation is practically _waving_ a red flag of danger, and there you go charging right for the crabtrap!’

Sollux ignores him and stalks towards Eridan. The Water Tribe prince-to-be smiles, a smile not entirely malicious but not entirely friendly either. He holds out the chain as if offering a fine gift.

‘My pleasure,’ Eridan says, with a little mock-bow.

The other snatches the contraption away and examines it carefully. The two silver-wrought rings look identical, twisted with the insignia of cresting waves and beneath that a structure that seems to have no two sides.

‘Sollux—‘ Kanaya says.

Without further ado Sollux selects one of the bracelets and snaps it around his wrist.

‘Oh fuck, oh fuck,’ Karkat moans, covering his eyes. ‘What do we do, Kanaya? What do we do?’

‘If Amupora turns out to have malicious intentions, I can kill him before affairs get too out of hand.’

‘Fuck, that’s not even the point. Amupora himself is probably as far from knowing how to handle whatever that shit is as he is from knowing how to fly.’

Eridan takes the other ring and clasps it around his own wrist. The chain glows bright blue, and Sollux gasps.

‘Sollux!’

Sollux pants. Eridan steps forward and stamps hard on the ground; a column of rock punches through the snow and sprays ice and slush over your heads. Sollux throws his arms upward, as if lifting a great weight over his shoulders, and a giant wave of water rears like a dragon from the black-tinted ice. The yard transforms into a storm of liquid and stones. After several minutes, the maelstrom ceases and Eridan emerges holding the bracelet in his hand.

You, Karkat and Kanaya gape. Eridan spreads his hands towards the general audience, as though asking ‘ _well?_ ’.

‘See? Can’t argue with that, can you?’ The chain clinks. He glowers at you. ‘You could have given me more credit, Fef.’

‘Shit,’ Karkat mutters under his breath to Kanaya, ‘he’s not even breathing hard.’

Sollux fiddles the clasp open and flings his half at Eridan’s face. The latter catches the wristpiece and glares at Sollux’s retreating back.

‘Wow, fuck, what an asshole, that was entirely unnecessary—‘

You step forward and take Sollux’s hands. He squeezes them.

‘No way of hurting the other person?’

‘Nope.’ Sollux huffs a short, pointed breath through his nose. ‘I could almost wish there was.’

‘Wait, so you actually _tried_ to—‘

‘Of course I tried,’ Sollux snaps in Karkat’s general direction. ‘I wouldn’t trust that shithole further than he can firebend.’

Eridan snorts.

‘I mean, thanks for the vote of confidence, I fuckin’ appreciate it and all, but, you know, this shit took twelve years to develop with the backin’ a one of the world’s most influential _rulers_. It’s not like it’s a wizard toy some mad alchemist makes in a weekend.’

‘We weren’t even sure whether you knew how to work them, you pretentious dumbfuck! It could have blown up the house for all we knew!’

Eridan ignores him and folds the bracelet away slowly. The yellow-silver bands of his rings glitter in the reflected light of the snow.

‘Well, Fef,’ he says finally, turning to you, ’what’s the verdict? You comin’ back with me or not?’

Sollux’s grip on your shoulders tightens. You hesitate for only a moment.

‘No.’

Eridan whirls around. The scarf flutters comically.

‘ _What?_ Are you fuckin’ serious right now?’

‘Yes, Eridan. I’m not coming and that’s that!’

‘But—‘ Eridan throws his hands in the air. ‘For fuck’s sake, Fef! I went to all this effort a comin’ halfway across the world and trackin’ you down just so that I could glubbin’ convince your flighty ass to return to your _rightful_ position, as the chieftess-to-be of our tribe! I’ve _shown_ you that I’m serious. You don’t even got to fuckin’ _stay_ , if you don’t want to, you only need to be there until your mother gets things up and runnin’. What is it _now_ that’s put a scorpion-bee in your bonnet?’

‘Sollux,’ you answer clearly, and you see Eridan’s jaw tighten. ‘You’ve got no sway over me, you or my mother. I’m free to do what I want, for the first time in my life! And what I want—more than anything else— is to stay here, with Sollux.’

Eridan turns away.

‘Fine.’ Eridan’s teeth clench. ‘We can take him with us.’

Silence. Karkat’s jaw practically drops; Sollux’s muscles contract against your skin. The lines of Eridan’s shoulders are tense and unwilling.

‘Are you... serious, Eridan?’

‘Yes.’

Eridan turns back around, and his mouth is set in a stubborn line. ‘You got duties, Fef, you can’t just abandon them, and I won’t be lettin’ you.’

You bite your lip and look away. ‘I don’t want to lead people to war, Eridan. That’s just not right.’

‘Whatever. Fuck, who cares. You’re the princess, you got the right to do what you think you want to do. But you _have_ to come back, and filthy peasant attached or no your mother won’t let me back unless I got you. I got ways, all right, I’m pretty sure I can convince her that bringin’ him along will be useful to us.’

‘How do you plan to do that?’

‘Leave that part to me.’ Eridan folds his arms. ‘Are you comin’ or not?’

You look upwards at Sollux. He stares at you in silence.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’ Eridan snarls. He spins around and starts to march away. ‘If you’re not comin’ a your own volition, Fef, I suppose I’ll have to speak to your mother to get another way to get you to come back.’

‘I’ll go, FF, if you want,’ Sollux says, low and urgent. ‘Don’t make a big deal out of it. Okay?’

‘Are you sure? Even if it means... dealing with Eridan? Living with me in the North Pole?’

The corner of Sollux’s mouth quirks upwards. He presses his knuckles together and makes a loud popping sound; you wince.

‘I can fucking deal with _Eridan_ for you, FF.’

‘Sollux... you don’t need to come. I mean that!’

He shakes his head. ‘Nah. Better to sign your own death warrant.’

You touch the sharp edges of his face with your fingertips. ‘You’re _absolutely certain?_ ’

‘Fuck, FF, it’s not as if I had the most glamourous wonderful life on this side of the ocean anyway.’

You take a deep breath.

‘Eridan!’ you call. ‘I’ll come with you.’

Eridan turns around and smiles. ‘ _That’s_ more like it,’ he says.

‘Wait!’

The interjection is Karkat’s. All four of you turn in his direction.

He squeezes his eyes shut, wearing an expression of great pain. Finally, he blurts something out very fast.

‘Don’t go, all right? I want to come too.’

*       *       *

The following morning finds all five of you aboard Eridan’s little ship, squinting into a world of grey and blue.

Kanaya looks vaguely sick. Karkat sits beside her in a little ball, nose bright red with the cold and sneezing pungent flavours of sea spray.

‘You know,’ he begins, teeth chattering, ‘I was pretty convinced that you _hated_ your fiancé, Feferi. And yet you still agreed to get on a bloody ship back to the North Pole with him!’

Sollux is sitting a little distance away from all of you, staring at the sails as they groan in the wind. You sigh.

‘It’s _really_ complicated,’ you say. ‘Eridan... well, you can probably tell that he wasn’t always the nicest person to be around. But he was still my friend, and... I suppose I can’t say he didn’t ever try! He just wasn’t very good at being considerate of other people’s feelings, and stuff. When he started seeing Vriska, though... I got _so_ mad.’

Karkat frowns, rubbing his arms. ‘You know, I never actually got that. You said you didn’t like him in that—‘

‘In the Northern Water Tribe, an unmarried woman’s dignity is very important. We don’t really have much say over anything else! It’s the only way we can prove our worth. And he threw mine away without asking. If word had spread, I wouldn’t have been able to do a thing. Because I was the princess, people would have thought that I’d brought shame to the entire tribe.’

You sigh. ‘I don’t think he even realized it was that serious.’

‘He’s a fucking—d-d-d— moron,’ Karkat says decisively, through his rattling jaws, ‘a repulsive, idiotic _razzmat-t-t-tazz_ of go fuck yourself. But under all those bucketloads of charm, you know, he doesn’t actually seem _that_ —t-t-t-t—fucking bad!’ Karkat sighs. ‘I know his type. They have egos the size of the Earth Kingdom, and brains the size of peas to match. But with a bit of gentle encouragement...’

‘I can hear that, Kar,’ Eridan says from his position at the bow.

‘ _Stop calling me that, you sick dickfondling fucktard! I’m not your friend!_ And how did you hear me from all the way over there anyway, are you some kind of creepy mutant?’

‘Karkat,’ Kanaya says faintly. ‘You may need to be quieter.’

‘Brilliant observation, airquotes “sis” un-airquotes! Except, wait, fuck, how about this revelation: _I’m already being quiet!_ ’

‘KK,’ Sollux says, ‘If you think that’s quiet—‘

‘All right, all right, shut the fuck up, I will be—‘ Karkat flings out his arms and draws in a deep breath— ‘ _quiet._ ’

He takes several long, calming breaths, and then turns to you.

‘Feferi,’ he whispers, ‘what were you saying?’

‘Um, nothing?’

‘Good.’ He lapses into silence. Kanaya is clearly attempting to hide a fit of laughter behind her hands.

The journey passes largely in silence. You all doze in turn, except for Eridan, who marches twitchily about like a wind-up soldier. During the lengthy stretches of foam sounds and the slapping of water, you attempt to brace yourself for the scene of the return. You will need to explain your prolonged absence. You will need to justify the presence of three Earth Kingdom citizens in Water Tribe territory, or else keep their existence very quiet. You will need to start all over again with your war against Darusuka’s clinch on power and... Eridan was never much of a people person. In fact, you spent most of your life mollifying those whom he riled.

It makes you exhausted to think about it, as if you haven’t slept in a week.

When you awaken once more the ship has come to a halt. Eridan’s distant yelling wafts through the open trapdoor along with the smell of fresh fish.

‘—fuckin’ _told you to keep it away from reef-dwellin’ shit, you worthless birdbrains, the fuck are you—_ ‘

You shut your eyes and rub two hands across them. ‘What is it, Sollux? What happened?’

‘Rudder failure,’ Sollux replies shortly. ‘Admiral Fishfuck called an emergency halt. We’re waiting for him to yell himself out so that we can do something useful.’

You bite your lip. ‘I’m sorry! This doesn’t usually happen to our ships, our crews are quite good at navigating over open water.’

Eridan emerges through the trapdoor with an expression darker than the thunderclouds.

‘Fuckin’ _imbeciles,_ ’ he spits. ‘You—‘ he jabs a finger at Sollux—‘get over here and help me waterbend.’

Sollux looks up through his dark lenses and slowly raises his middle finger.

‘You know what, dickhead? How about _nah_.’

Eridan visibly swells. Karkat groans.

You place a careful hand on Sollux’s arm. ‘Sollux, I know you don’t like Eridan, but maybe—‘

‘Where has your statesperson’s trainin’ gone, Fef? Since when did you _plead_ with peasants to make them follow orders?’

Sollux stands up. You leap forward and put a hand around each of his arms to prevent him from moving any further.

‘ _Please_ , Sollux! It’s going to take at least nine hours to dispatch help out here from the North Pole, and we’re three miles from land. It’ll take _forever_ if we just float. You and Eridan could probably do it in half an hour, with that—that bracelet—and get us on land so we can find another Water Tribe ship. Sollux, just this once. For me?’

Eridan sniffs. You glare at him.

‘For once in your life, Eridan Amupora,’ you say, ‘ _be quiet!_ ’

He raises his hands in mock-surrender. ‘I didn’t say nothin’.’

Sollux snorts in disgust. He loosens your grip on his wrists gently, shaking his head, and stalks towards Eridan with a deeply displeased expression.

‘Much better,’ Eridan says. One half of the bracelet pair is already around Eridan’s wrist. He kicks the other end at Sollux. ‘All right, jerk, get over here. Watch the current. Move the water towards the port side a the ship. Hurry up.’

Sollux pauses in the middle of picking up the bracelet. His glasses seem to radiate anger.

‘Fuckin’ hell, what are you waitin’ for?’

The muscles and tendons in Sollux’s neck tighten to the point of breaking. He moves towards Eridan, shaking with rage. Kanaya’s hand shifts to rest on her sword.

‘Watch and copy,’ Eridan orders, apparently oblivious to the spike in tension. ‘Northeast. Three—two—one—‘

Both of them move their arms in a circle and rise, Sollux with clearly apparent reluctance. A wave of water rises and bulges beneath the left edge of the boat’s shadow; the deck tilts a few degrees, and the ship shifts right.

‘Again,’ Eridan barks immediately, looking dissatisfied. ‘Three—two—one—‘

The ship rises and falls once more. A sheen of sweat soon glitters on Eridan’s smooth forehead, but he seems utterly oblivious to his own physical exertions. Sollux is breathing hard, clenching his hands into fists by his sides.

‘I don’t think Amupora realized how hard it is to move a fucking ship without tipping it over,’ Karkat mutters. ‘I should have seen that pompous idiot’s overconfidence coming a mile away.’

‘Three—two—one—all right, stop. And again! Three—two—one—‘

Part of the water rises and bulges; the other half rises halfway and then crashes against the side of the vessel, causing Kanaya to murmur in alarm. One of the crew members shouts something from below. The boat rocks dangerously.

Eridan spits a torrent of curses at Sollux’s face.

‘You fuckin’ _imbecile_!’ he hisses. ‘You could have capsized us right then and there—!‘

‘Wow, I am _so sorry_ , Prince Fishfuck!’ Sollux shouts. Two bright spots of colour are burning on his thin cheekbones. ‘You know, I’m from the fucking _Earth Kingdom_ , I live on _land_ , smartass, you might want to consider—‘

Eridan snarls. ‘That’s irrelevant.’

‘Why don’t we fucking try _earthbending_ for a change, see how you—‘

‘Because we’re on _water_ , you lisping simpleton—‘

Sollux roars and tries to tear the bracelet off. Eridan’s eyes bulge; a bolt of white light shoots along the metal, and the wristpiece seals shut. Kanaya and Karkat gasp.

Sollux stares disbelievingly at the silver. Eridan makes a sharp double-armed jerk, as if bending. The white light roars through them both, sparking off the water like fire, and then everything on Sollux’s side rushes towards Eridan, leaving a faint white shell behind to surround Sollux’s form. Sollux crumples to the deck like a rag doll, face lifeless.

A beat of stunned, stunned silence. Eridan looks at his figure with distaste. The waves crackle.

‘ _No_ ,’ you whisper. The sound tears through your throat like a pen-knife through paper.

A flock of seagulls take flight from the railings. ‘ _No_!’ you scream.

Eridan turns around. Cold, burning cold anger rises in you like a flood; before you can stop yourself, you are sprinting towards him. Eridan raises two hands and catches your wrists, and you wrestle against his control. Even though he stands two hands taller than you, he has difficulty restraining you.

‘Fef!’ he says. ‘Calm down—‘

‘Calm _down—_? What did you _do_ to him—’

‘He’s not dead,’ Eridan says. He is panting, but his face is frighteningly composed. He raises the bracelet with a clink. ‘This doesn’t just let you connect with another bender, it lets you control a bender a the element after yours in the Avatar Cycle. I told you I’d make him useful, Fef. Might as well do it sooner rather than later.’

With a feral–sounding snarl Kanaya unhooks her blade and leaps towards Eridan. He looks around; with barely the twitch of a muscle he raises a whip of water and lashes it against Kanaya’s midriff. She gasps and slams into the side of the boat. Her head flops sideways.

‘Listen to me, Fef,’ Eridan says. He takes your shoulders gently in his hands. ‘You don’t need him. Believe me. You don’t need _them_.

‘You’re a princess. We’re goin’ to rule the world. The Water Tribe is goin’ to be feared like no other conquerin’ race has been. I found this out all by myself, they got to take it. And when all those peons find out what this can _do_ , Fef—‘ he holds up the bracelet, still linking him to Sollux by its chain— ‘they’re goin’ to _beg_ for mercy.’

His smile pulls his lips into a curve, like a little boy who’s just received his first birthday pudding. You shake your head soundlessly, stunned into silence.

‘Fef, maybe you don’t want to marry me, but we belong together, as the rulin’ class if nothin’ else.’ He looks genuinely excited. ‘You and I, we could make the world kneel. Why should we stop at the Fire Nation? Your mother was treadin’ careful because she thought the other nations were goin’ to spit down the Water Tribe’s throats, but with this they won’t dare. If you can keep a secret, I can bring you in on this. Everythin’ is ready. Nothin’ is missing but you.’

You reach out and drive your fist through his gut. Eridan gasps and drops to the ground.

‘Never,’ you say, through clenched teeth. ‘You’re never going to do it. My mother won’t agree, ever. And besides, I’ll to make it my first priority to stop you. People won’t be used that way by the Water Tribe while I live.’

You abandoned your trident when you left for the Earth Kingdom. Instead you reach for your knives.

Eridan’s eyes harden.

‘Right, then,’ he says, ‘I suppose that makes you an enemy, Fef. And we can’t have enemies a the tribe knowin’ our secrets.’

Without further ado Eridan plunges his hands downwards. Karkat yells in alarm. You experience a distinct sensation of plummeting, falling through a widening gap between two splintered planks; then the water pulls a freezing blanket over your eyes. Bubbling up over your ears, it smiles as it swallows you whole.


	4. Bitter Work

The Southern Air Temple can be found at the heart of the Patola mountains. It lies within an intimidating landscape where sharp silver peaks tear the clouds like so much fabric, and where the white ridges of the southern icesheet are just visible through the fog. The temple is regarded as the cradle of modern Air Nomad society—modern, of course, in the loosest sense only— and it is accessible only by glider or sky bison, making it a true sanctuary for your people.

More importantly, the geography of the region makes for _killer_ winds. Any airbender worth his or her glider can tell you that there is no better place to fly than the Patola ranges, especially in the spring, when warm air originating from the Fire Nation changes direction to mingle with the biting cold breezes of the South Pole.

You are now demonstrating this by cartwheeling delightedly along the currents, mere inches from the cliffs. Ai Gaobei might begin to have conniptions if you keep this up.

Actually, your mentor is doing a pretty good job of keeping his fatherly urges in check: his stoic expression is betrayed only by his white-knuckled grip on his glider. Dodging a protrusion that would likely have brought the Water Tribe Avatar into the world a few decades early, you eye the mountains below; the Southern Temple appears as a yellow-white blob in your line of sight, expanding.

As you draw nearer, an unexpected smudge of grey passes through the wide temple doors and waves at you. You wave back, squinting at the unanticipated welcoming party. A shock of dark, curly hair that likely hasn't seen any attention in - well, in who knows how long - sits atop a face painted in a permanent grin. Its owner stretches up, cracking a yawn, and smiles at you.

You touch down. Ai Gaobei and Liv Tyler land behind you with two great thumps of air (one significantly louder than the other). All three of you look uncertainly towards the stranger, who is now ambling his way closer. The other party halts at a distance of about five feet and offers you a bow.

“Now, ain't this an all up and miraculous surprise," says the interloper, flashing a smile. "Here I thought I all had my spyin' on a Northern Temple bison, and which two motherfuckers do I find when I come to peddle my wares? Shit, if it ain't my second and third favorite flyboys from that frigid-ass mountain y'all up and living in."

Panic that your memory has failed you seizes you. You try to rack your brains for a familiar face. “Uh, I—I, hi there. Do I know you?”

The facepainted guy takes this as an invitation to sit down, and he does so with gusto, sprawling on the ground. "Been too motherfuckin' long, arrowhead. Diggin' that miracle of a tat, by the way. Suits a motherfucker somethin' fierce."

He drags a hand through his unkempt hair as he speaks, his gaze fixed on nothing at all. "So what all up and brings y'all down Patola-side? Airball tourn ain't for another month." He chuckles. “You ain’t here to do business, are ya?”

"I’m sorry,” your mentor interrupts, with ice in his voice. The clown-faced stranger looks up with wide eyes.

“Oh, shit, brother, I all up and forgot to say!” He holds out a greyish, dirty hand; you reach out and clasp it hesitantly. “I be Gamzee Maaka. Tavbro told me you were all up and rollin’ down South to visit a motherfucker, so I thought I’d come out here to give you a li’l wave.”

“Tav... Tavros!” Your expression clears immediately. “That’s right, Tavros told me to look out for you! Gamzee, right? No, wait, you just said that, never mind me.” You laugh and shake Gamzee’s hand rigorously. “Nice to meet you, Gamzee.”

Ai Gaobei looks on with a distinctly suspicious expression. Gamzee grins his lazy grin and flops his arm like a rag doll given sentience.

“Nice to meet you too, brother. So what all up and carries you on its motherfuckin’ gracious back down to the Southern Temple?”

“We’re just stopping by here!” you tell him, grinning. ”We’re actually heading for the South Pole.”

Gamzee's brow rises. "Shit, what y'all motherfuckers plannin' on findin' at the bottom of the world? Not ice and snow, I would hope those ain't in your way of thinkin'. Plenty of that in those mountains of yours."

"I must speak with the Elders," Ai Gaobei interrupts suddenly. "See to Liv Tyler, won't you?"

You nod. He gives you a pointed glance, narrows his eyes at Gamzee, and departs for the Temple Sanctuary.

Gamzee has knit his brow together and is regarding you with a confused expression. You hasten to explain.

“I’m looking for a waterbending teacher.”

"What does an airbender up and need a waterbending master for? You had such an easy time with air you're gonna go and give the next one a motherfuckin' shot?"

All at once it hits him. "You gotta be motherfuckin' dicking with me, brother. You up and all bein’ the _Avatar?_ " His face splits, and he howls with laughter. "Mother _fuck_ , my arrowheaded bro! That is the tastiest motherfucker of a miracle I've ever so much as laid mine motherfuckin' eyes up and on!"

You chuckle along with him, your cheeks slightly red. "It’s pretty awesome, isn't it?"

"Awesome don't even begin to describe this shit, brother. I came out to give two brothers a wave, and fuck me, the motherfuckin’ Avatar all up and appears. If that ain't a bitchin' miracle there ain't no such thing."

You shake your head, coaxing Liv Tyler into the stables. "So what are you doing down here, Gamzee? You don’t seem to be an air—“

"John,” your mentor’s voice says.

You look up. Ai Gaobei is approaching, followed by the Elders of the Southern Temple.

You immediately sink into a bow, out of habit, and only flinch a little when the Elders behind your mentor return the gesture. When you look around again Gamzee has made himself scarce. You wonder how he moved so fast.

"Yes?"

"Could you come with us, please? We have business to discuss."

*       *       *

"What?” Gamzee says in a hurt voice. “You motherfuckers all up and skippin' out on me so soon? Y’all just got here!"

"Sorry, Gamzee," you say, loading up Liv Tyler yet again, mere hours after you unsaddled her. The bison protests. "We spoke to the Elders, and they think we should get moving.”

"Shit, man," Gamzee says, shaking his head. "They've really got their robes all up and twisted over this Water Tribe shit, don't they?"

You shrug. "Something like that. They’re just really concerned, I guess. They think the Avatar might be needed soon." You don’t say how you sort of hope they're wrong.

Gamzee harrumphs, crossing his arms. “All I’m getting my say on for is that the world’d be a lot mellower place if everyone just took a motherfuckin’ breather once in a while and had some juice, you feel?” He glances about before he lowers his voice and adds, “Man, you’re a good motherfucker. You ever want some, you come find me, yeah? And I ain’t getting my talk on for juice. You and me, we’re brothers, got it? Hit me up if you need a hand.”

"Uh. Thanks, Gam. I will be... sure to do that.” Gamzee seems like a nice guy to you, by and large, whatever he’s doing down here, but you won’t deny that he’s a little... odd.

“Oh!" you exclaim, suddenly remembering your promise to Tavros. You dig around in your robes, producing the slightly-rumpled letter that he asked you to deliver. "Tavros wanted me to give this to you when I stopped here.”

"Aw, shit. Tavbro wrote me a motherfuckin' letter? If that ain't the sweetest motherfucker of a thing," he says, taking the parchment from your hands. "I all up and appreciate, my arrowheaded Avatar brother. Have fun southside. Try not to freeze to death, you hear?"

“I’ll do my best!” you say. Your bison lets out a roar and takes to the open air. Ai Gaobei points her southwards as you wave.

Gamzee returns the gesture somewhat distractedly, unfurling the letter as you fly on.

*       *       *

Your name is Rose La Lingzui, and the morning has been fairly interesting.

Your childhood friend has turned up on your doorstep after three years of near silence. That doesn’t happen all the time. Neither is it every day that you learn that oh, incidentally, this friend of yours is the Avatar. Oh, and he’ll be staying in the South Pole with you while your mother teaches him waterbending.

Naturally, your mother, helped by the rice wine she imports from Gaoling, managed to forget that you were even expecting guests until John’s ten-ton flying bison set itself down just outside your abode. Sometimes, you hate that woman.

Right now, though, you’re attempting to be a gracious host and help John move into the spare room. “Help” may be an overstatement.

“I know that Air Nomads deplore worldly possessions,” you say, as John unpacks one of the three things that he brought with him, “but I wasn’t aware that the spiritually awakened life needed to be _quite_ so spartan.”

The Nomad in question gives you a strange look. “Well, what were you expecting? That we monks would do the whole ‘meditation and asceticism’ thing and then go sleep in these lavish beds we order from Ba Sing Sae?”

You roll your eyes. “I assumed you would at least carry a mattress.”

John shrugs. “Mattresses are weird.”

“You have no trouble with sleeping on Liv Tyler.”

“That’s different! Liv Tyler is a fluffy, comfortable, warm beast who is also my animal guide. Mattresses are, like, none of those things.”

You snigger quietly. John hops around the room to lay out his bedroll, making the shutters rattle.

“How are Dave and Jade?” you ask, mostly for the point of making conversation.

“Yes! Oh man, I have to tell you later about Omashu, Jade and I had the wickedest time. And Dave says he’s all good and that his brother found work.”

“That’s good,” you murmur absently, giving John a head-to-toe mental inspection. His hair is a little longer now, his limbs now look like spaghetti rather than steamed buns and he’s grown taller than you. How disappointing. You enjoyed bringing up the fact that he was the shortest out of you four while it lasted.

“So, how does it feel,” you ask suddenly, eyeing his tattoos, “being the Avatar?”

John deflates abruptly. He plops himself down on his half-unrolled mat; the floor protests.

“Bluh. I’m not sure.”

“How do you mean?”

“I guess it’s a dumb thing to complain about, but, you know, no one ever even asked me whether I actually wanted to be the Avatar! Like, oh, John, by the way, do you _mind_ needing to be this scary and responsible sounding ‘key liaison to the spirits’ thing? Not to mention the only person who can master all four elements and bring peace to the world? Oh and also there is a war brewing right now and you are probably going to have to stop it! Everyone just thinks I must be really happy that it’s me.” He huffs. “Yeah, thanks a lot, universe.”

You get the feeling he’s been wanting to get that off his chest. He sighs, flopping down on his pitiful little sleeping mat.

You make a noise somewhere in your throat. He lifts his head to gaze at you. “Huh?”

“As the Avatar,” you tell him, “you’ll have more power than any other human alive. Nothing will be inaccessible to you, no realm, no bending technique. The world’s knowledge will lay itself at your feet. Isn’t that a good thing?”

John shrugs noncommittally. “I never really considered that stuff, to be honest.”

“So what else do you want in life, John? What would you have done if you hadn’t been the Avatar?”

“I dunno. Help Tavros with the stables? Invent some new airbending techniques? Travel the world? Just, live, I guess. That was all _I_ wanted.”

You smile. “No wonder they say that airbenders make good Avatars. I can hear the monk in you speaking.” You stand up and gently dust off your robes. “Come on, then.”

“What?”

“We’re going to make a snowman, John, like we did on the first day the last time you were here, three years ago.” You raise an eyebrow coyly. “Do you want to build a snowman, John? Tell me that you do.”

*       *       *

Over the following few days, John warms up to the South Pole remarkably fast. You’d never have admitted it to him, but a part of you cannot fail to admire the ease with which John can find happiness in small things. (Another part of you notes— even as your conscious mind denies it vehemently— that he’s certainly grown up over the past three years.)

“So, Jade and I are riding the delivery chutes in Omashu, right?” He gestures animatedly, miming a cart flying down a railroad. “Then, suddenly, the cart hops the rail somehow and starts careening down the street!”

“No.”

“Yes! So we’re panicking, yelling at everyone to get out of the way and trying to warn people that hey, there is a stone cart heading RIGHT FOR YOU, RIGHT NOW! Then along comes this guy wheeling a cart of cabbages, and we utterly tore through his cart. It was like the thing was made of rice paper. I feel kinda bad for him now, but it was pretty hilarious at the time.”

“And I suppose it never occurred to either of you to, oh, stop the cart with bending?”

John blinks. “Well, now that you say it like that, we sound like idiots. Okay, fine. Maybe we could have stopped it. _Maybe_. Or at least slowed it down, I guess, before it rammed into that tea house. But then that would suck, because I would have no way to regale you with our hilarious antics!”

You roll your eyes. “Pity the thought. Have you any tales about you and Ha Li that _don’t_ end in the annihilation of private property?”

He thinks about that for at least half a minute. “Hm. Tales that don’t end in…” He brightens. “How about the time I was in the Fire Nation with Dave and the two of us—”

“If this is that story about you and the stairs again, I have heard it plenty of times from both Dave and Jade.”

John snickers. “I warned you, bro.”

“Consider me fully informed on the matter of stairs, John.”

He frowns and then suddenly grins like he’s seen a pastry. You raise an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“I just missed you so much! Like, wow, it’s been three years since we saw each other!”

“How the time flies.”

“You’re saying that in a jokey voice, but I am being serious! I mean, it hardly feels like any time at all. Here we are, talking like we just saw each other yesterday!” He shrugs. “I dunno, Rose. It’s good seeing you again.”

You smile and gently nudge him with your shoulder. “The feeling is mutual.”

“So,” John finally asks, looking back at the receding ice walls of the Southern Water Tribe villages, “what about you? What have you been up to for the past three years?”

“Studying, for the large part.”

“That sounds so _boring_ , Rose! What have you really been up to?”

“Oh, but it isn’t boring at all, John.”

John opens his mouth to retort.

You slide in front of him smoothly, flinging your arms up. John stops dead in surprise.

Two narrow ribbons curl upwards with your hands and lash outwards. You open and close your fingers and begin to execute a series of thrusts. The watery snakes undulate, thicken and thin above John’s head, crisscrossing over and under each other hundreds of times and slithering around both your ankles, like the tentacles of some oceanic abomination.

Gradually, you adjust the plane of inclination, and your serpents scar the snow; the wheels grow thicker and wider as you concentrate. Seconds pass. John looks on open-mouthed. Slowly, you bend your elbow and bring the whirlwind around, carving a loose _R_ shape into your pristine canvas.

“Add a J!” John exclaims, eyes wide.

You smile and oblige. The wobbly _J_ that you create ends with its tail connected to your _R_. You let out a sharp breath, to complete the demonstration, and the water freezes over immediately, leaving behind a collection of fantastical sculptures.

John’s look of awe is reflected in the icy mirrors.

“That was so awesome!” he breathes. “Who did you learn that from?”

You shrug, nonchalantly.

“Mother is an excellent teacher, for all of her drunken foolhardiness. I imagine you will do well under her.”

John moves forward gingerly, ducking and weaving to observe your handiwork from each angle. His footsteps crunch like breaking twigs. He almost slips as he steps on the _R_.

“Geez, no kidding,” he says. “I think I’ll be satisfied if I get to be _half_ as good as you!”

Eyeing the ice, he suddenly swings his arms about in what you imagine to be an attempt at imitation. One of the puddles left behind from your demonstration ripples.

You hide a smile as you pull up the hood of your parka.

A pre-emptive lesson in waterbending can’t hurt anyone, you decide. As a matter of fact, you’re quite curious about how fast the Avatar can learn.

“Your stance is much too wide,” you tell him, sinking into the proper form. “John, stand like this.”

His arms are too high, and his back too stiff. You deliberate and then, suddenly inspired, you drop your stance and walk towards your friend. You raise two tentacles of water and wrap them around his arms; then, you push gently on his back and guide his joints until they click into form.

He turns faintly red, and you pretend you didn’t see it and thank the spirits that you’ve pulled your hood up.

“Perfect,” you tell him. “Now try to raise the water from that puddle again.”

He brings an arm up, mimicking your movements. The wind picks up. The puddle doesn’t react save to splash, but for all you know that might have been a stray breeze.

“Try again,” you instruct. “But try not to be so stiff. To bend water, you must move like water. Water only knows its own.”

Shaking his head, he lets out a breath. “Like water,” he repeats, eyeing the puddle.

He draws his arm upwards smoothly, his wrist rolling. The puddle ripples again, and like sticky paste the water stretches; a tiny globule collects above the puddle, shivering. The wind dies gradually and John waits for the water to go still. Then he brings it towards his face with a motion of his fingers, and his bright grey eyes appear in its surface, distorted into saucers.

You concentrate on hiding your surprise.

John suddenly laughs in delight, which is enough to send the fruits of his labors splashing back into the puddle. He turns to you beaming regardless.

“You saw it, right?” He looks so excited that you are overcome by a sudden and puerile desire to embrace him. “I did it!”

You quell the impulse and smile. “ _Excellent_ work, John,” you say, eyes flashing. “We will make a waterbender out of you yet.”

*       *       *

Your name is John, and soon the days and weeks fall into a comfortable rhythm. Under Madame La Lingzui’s tutelage, you turn slowly from an airbender able to barely move a few ounces of water to— well, you’re still an airbender, but now you are much less of a pushover when it comes to water. Like, a few days ago, you managed not to be totally obliterated by Rose during a spar.

Speaking of Rose.

Madame Lingzui heartily encourages you to practice with her daughter in your free time. This usually entails getting the snot beaten out of you while listening to Rose lecture you about diversive chi and the five arcs of energy distribution. Your friend takes your education in waterbending very seriously. It is frankly frightening.

Seriously. It takes Rose _three_ seconds to roll out _five_ tidal waves without even missing a beat in her sermons. You’ve counted them.

“Are you paying attention, John?”

Okay, scratch that. It’s _terrifying._

“Yes! Totally! You were talking about Kan of the Bagua, which is a concept symbolically associated with pure water! The other one is, uh, Dui, which is associated with liquid mixtures!”

Rose smiles. You scramble to dodge the oncoming spear of jagged ice. “Good. Now, as I was saying before, La is the embodiment of...?”

An exquisite ice star spirals towards you as the spear rams into a tree. You melt it and catch it with a spin, swinging the river back her way. “The Ocean?” you try, raising a ring of water from the snow underfoot.

“Was that an answer or a question?” She erects a column of ice in under half a second. The water breaks harmlessly against the spire, and with a flick of her wrist half a dozen rivulets burst from the fortress, snaking towards you.

“The Ocean!” you repeat with conviction. With a sweeping gesture on your part five of the six turn to ice and fall, shattering as they hit the ground. “Tui and La, they were the original waterbenders!”

The sixth whips at your heels, and you step backwards— onto thin ice that cracks underfoot.

Rose’s eyes widen as the ground below you gives, sending you careening into the frigid waters below.

At first you don’t even feel the cold. Rather, you experience a sensation of suddenly falling through what you _knew_ not a few moments ago was solid ground below you. That utter sense of confusion consumes you for a good half an instant.

_Then_ the weight of the freezing water comes booming down on you, and oh spirits it’s somehow even _worse_ than that time Rose literally froze you up to your neck in ice (in her defense, it was a pretty stupid idiom).

You flail in the water, trying to claw your way back to the surface, but you don’t even know which way is up. Your lungs feel practically flat, and you could have sworn the entire ocean was pressing down on you. You clamp your lips up and try not to breathe.

A burning sensation spreads in your throat, and the panicked fear of drowning has you raging even harder against your watery prison. Your vision begins to fade.

Gasping for air, your eyes flutter open to see Rose, kneeling on the ice and breathing hard. Her face is a mask of worry and desperation.

“John! John, are you all right? Can you breathe?”

It takes a second for you to find your voice. “What happened?”

Rose’s voice is barely calm. “You—you broke through some thin ice. You must have stepped through a waterhole.” She grimaces and touches your wet shoulders. Her small neat fingers are trembling. “John, I’m so sorry.”

You close and open your eyelids muzzily, trying to remember how to form words. “Wh—what for?”

“I pushed you too hard. I thought I could make you learn faster.” Rose looks as distressed as you’ve ever seen her. “I will never do it again, I promise.”

You shiver, laying your head back down on the powdery snow. “I don’t suppose we can be done with lessons for today, can we?”

She laughs weakly. “I think that can be arranged.”

You focus on her face, and she is staring at you with an expression so different from her usual mask of disinterest, and you suddenly feel as if you should say something. Something nice and fuzzy. _Thank_ _you_ , maybe.

Instead you proceed to pass the fuck out

*       *       *

Today is the day of the solstice, and John’s mentor and your mother have decided to toss your schedules to the winds. John is going to visit the South Pole.

“Right, because where we are right now…” John begins, confusion evident on his face.

“Isn’t the true geographical south pole!” Your mother laughs. “Sheesh, what do they teach you monks in school these days?”

“The southernmost tip of the world is only a few hours from here by boat,” Ai Gaobei explains, helping La Lingzui into the saddle. “And Liv Tyler will get us there in a fraction of that time, I’m sure.”

“Okay. Why are we going to the ‘true’ south pole in the first place? Are we not south enough for you guys?” John asks.

You snicker. Ai Gaobei shares a look of amusement with your mother.

“We’re still working on spiritual awareness,” he reassures her. “We’ll get there. John, the South Pole is one of the most spiritual places on Earth. It is one of the two natural bridges between our world and the world of the spirits. And today is the solstice, which is a very special day, celestially speaking. This is a rare opportunity for you to learn more about the Spirit World and about your duties as the Avatar.”

John glances at you hopefully. You sip your cup of tea and address your response to the guardians. “As interesting as all this sounds, Mother, Monk Ai Gaobei, I think I’ll have to stay behind today. Meditation is not my, well,” you lift the cup, a smirk on your lips, and John rolls his eyes. “At any rate, I have matters of my own I must attend to. My apologies.”

It takes some convincing, but eventually John agrees to leave you behind, and soon enough the three of them have boarded Liv Tyler and are on their way. You watch them until they are but a smudge on the horizon, drinking your tea calmly.

Once you’re convinced that they won’t be returning for some time, you head inside, collecting the teapot and the fine china and slipping away from the house, heading beyond the establishment walls.

You are expecting company, after all. It’s only polite to bring tea.

It’s quick work to light the incense and set the table for your guest once you arrive at your meeting point. The pool that takes up a large portion of the cavern ripples, and from the water slithers a beast of white and silver.

“Wonderful to see you again, Mizuchi,” you say politely, pouring out a cup for him.

The dragon shifts, melts into the shadows. “How many times must I tell you?” it says, and from the darkness emerges a man with skin as white as the snow, dressed in robes of alabaster. He takes the cup, lifting it to his blank, formless face, and somehow you feel him smile.

“Please. Call me Scratch.”


End file.
